


Opposite Sides of Betrayal

by Wintercameandwent



Series: Living with Regret of the Chance Not Taken [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aegon and Rhaenys Targaryen Live, Alternate Universe - Rhaegar Won, Don't Like Don't Read, Elia Martell Lives, F/M, Jon Snow's Name is Jaehaerys, Lyanna Stark Lives, No character bashing, Not Beta Read, POV Elia Martell, POV Lyanna Stark, POV Rhaegar Targaryen, Rhaegar loves Elia and Lyanna, not Rhaegar and Lyanna friendly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:41:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22211194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wintercameandwent/pseuds/Wintercameandwent
Summary: Rhaegar embraces the ghost in Dorne. Elia finds strength in her house words. Lyanna reflects on her past in preparation for the future.
Relationships: Elia Martell/Rhaegar Targaryen, Jaime Lannister/Elia Martell (Minor), Lyanna Stark/Rhaegar Targaryen
Series: Living with Regret of the Chance Not Taken [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1591549
Comments: 56
Kudos: 154
Collections: Southern Renaissance (Dorne Renaissance)





	1. A Dragon That Will Not Be Deterred By The Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Since more time is covered in each perspective, these chapters are each a little bit longer.

Rhaegar Targaryen began his journey to life walking parallel to death. While he was coming into the world members of his family were dying in the flames of Summerhall. Every time his mother found herself with child, he thrived as they all died...with the exception of Viserys and Daenerys who were born after he had grown to be much older than them. As his father became more unhinged, Rhaegar became more focused on his purpose in life. Why does he flourish when others seem to find their demise? He learned of the prophecies of the Prince that was Promised and the importance of the Dragon having three heads. 

After such a discover, he thought he was the one who was chosen to protect the realm of men while returning the Targaryens to a time of reliability...a return to the initial prominence of his House, away from the tarnish his father’s insanity has brought to their name. So, in response to this calling, Rhaegar killed the scholar and was born anew as a warrior. Upon further reflection he realized he wasn’t the Promised one, but it was through him that he would father the children of the prophecies.

For a time, he thought the Gods were sending him the signs that his interpretations were true. He had the Prince that was Promised, and two heads of the dragon. All he needed was one more, but the maester told him that was not to be...and once again Rhaegar found himself courting death after birth...the birth of his son. In the midst of all this he found the birth of a new love, and though he knew himself to be committed in a good marriage he found that the chance of him finding love with a woman whose fierceness could have rivaled Visenya herself a sign of the Gods. So, he killed the part of himself that told him his choice to pursue the prophecy was wrong, and in the process brought life into the world with Lyanna. 

He also brought death to the kingdom...and he brought death to the doors of his wife and children. 

As he traveled from Dorne to Kings Landing he found himself saying the words he needed to hear to make all that had occurred justifiable. He could hear it every time he told Lyanna that his wife was a good woman...a kind woman...she would accept the change in their marriage in time, or when he tried to reassure Arthur that his wife might be cross with him, but that with time she could forgive him...for his act...and once the prophecy came to be they all would understand that the suffering that was endured would have been worth it. 

The realization that the pain and loss of others would never be justified came in the most devastating of ways. It didn’t come when he saw the disappointment in his men’s eyes as he led them into battle or demanded they guard Lyanna in the Tower, it didn’t come when his mother could barely look at him when she met him on the steps of the Red Keep, it didn’t even stir when he noticed his wife choice not to greet him when he arrived home. No...none of that moved him, until... 

His mind returns to the past.

_“Mother” Rhaegar extends an arm to Lyanna, drawing her close to his mother who was heavy with child, as she held Jaehaerys close to her chest. “I present to you, Princess Lyanna Targaryen, my wife.”_

_“My King.” As ever the graceful woman he knew, she dipped down low in the most perfect curtsy, but never did her eyes rise to meet his. “Princess Lyanna...” her voice impersonal bordering on cold, but not impolite. He saw that she refused to look at Lyanna as well._

_“Your Grace.” Lyanna spoke quietly._

_“Here is our...son...Jaehaerys’s.” Rhaegar smiled widely at Lyanna and his son before sending his beaming expression towards his mother. Her face shutter closed as her breath shuddered through her body. She seemed to find her bearings when she tried for a smile, her eyes remaining fixed to a space behind him and the family he presented before her. Rhaegar remembers looking down at Lyanna, the brave front she was expressing when he knew she felt anything but. He hoped that she drew strength from his nearness._

_As too many eyes were on them, Rhaegar looked to where his wife should have been standing, where he had hoped and silently prayed she would be...but alas she was not. Honestly Rhaegar did not blame her. Though he should not complain, he could admit to himself that it wounded him to know that his dutiful wife, his wife who is so generous with herself especially when it came to him, could not push past her hurt to see him home._

_“Princess Elia, Mother?” He thought he heard a whimper come from her._

_Ser Derry coming to her side. “My Queen.” His mother’s grip on the man’s hand did not go unnoticed by him._

_“I will be fine, Ser Derry. Thank you.” Rhaegar tensed at the shared expression between his mother and his Master-at -Arms. When his mother finally looked at him all he could see were red-rimmed violet eyes that seem to have lost their color, a broken woman stood before him, and for some reason he could not explain he did not think a woman freed from the binds of his father should not look so shattered...not when she was freed from such a fate. Something was wrong._

_“Mother, where is Elia? Where are my children?” Rhaegar could feel Lyanna stiffen which cause their son to cry out. He tried to force himself to retract his tension._

_All she did was shake her head, his mother...the one who had always been his constant, she was the one who sent him on the path to self-realization a path she should have sent him on long ago, he thought._

_“They are gone.”_

_Stepping away from Lyanna and closer to his mother, he lowered his head to read her face once again. “What do you mean?”_

_His beautiful mother, even in her sadness...always beautiful, said more with her eyes than her words._

_“No. No. No.” Rhaegar turned to Oswell Whent and told him to remain with Lyanna. With Arthur at his side, Rhaegar ran through the castle, down long halls, up the stairs, and through connecting walkways until he reached his family’s apartments. The rooms he shared with his wife and his children. The first thing he noticed was this distinct smell in the hallway...a scent he was familiar with in battle....it was the smell of blood._

_The first room he came to had a shattered door. He stepped into the chamber, his eyes beholding a destruction that should never been seen in a room made for children. The torn drapes, the broken child’s bed, the shattered crib, the blood on the shredded bedding and the walls._

_Not understanding what he was seeing, Rhaegar ran out of the room and directly to Elia’s. Part of one door was falling off, and the other had been cleanly ripped off the hinges. The furniture had been overturned, tapestry, bedding, and clothing torn apart...and blood saturated the bed where his wife would have slept...a bed they once shared._

_He grasped at the orange shift, the one he had especially made for her in Dorne all because he wanted to do something for her...he had wanted to make her smile...and anything that made her think of her homeland would guarantee such a reaction._

_“Arthur...What happened? Where are they?” his voice could barely be heard by his own ears. Expecting his friend to help him make sense of the sights before them, he was caught off guard by the voice he had heard._

_“They are gone, Rhaegar. They did not survive the attack on the Keep.”_

_Rhaegar whipped his head towards the door, and standing in the hall but not inside the room was his young brother holding his daughter’s kitten._

_“Viserys! What have I told you about coming down here?” His mother pulled his brother by his arms, forcing him to look at her._

_“Mother!” Rhaegar yelled. Wanting her, needing her to tell him that Viserys was mistaken, that everything before him was a cruel jape. But one look at the tears spilling down her face, the tremble of her lips, and the collapse of her shoulders told Rhaegar all he needed to know._

_“NO. OH NO...MY ELIA...MY CHILDREN...NOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Rhaegar roared as tears spilled. He thundered until his voice left him and he could see nothing but blinding white as rage consumed him. Something died inside of him that day, he felt it as soon as he understood that in that moment the loss of his wife and children could never be justified._

_Again, Rhaegar found himself in companionable silence with death as Rhaegar was reborn. A Rhaegar who would have been a loyal, dutiful, and loving husband. A Rhaegar who would love and protect his children before anything and anyone. A Rhaegar who remembered his responsibility and was led by service to his people._

_He became the Rhaegar his Elia told him he could be. The Rhaegar she knew the realm needed. The man she always thought he was behind the books, the sword, and the prophecies. The man she always told him she knew him to be.... “I know you Rhae. You are not your father. Everything you need to be a good king is already inside you, Love.” If he closed his eyes he could see her beautiful eyes, feel one slender hand against his heart as the other held his face._

_Elia’s death and the death of their children served as the catalyst that propelled Rhaegar to change and put his thoughts of prophecy aside. He thought that his past actions shamed their memory in life. Rhaegar would not continue to shame them in death. Now years have passed and as he found tortured peace with the loss of them for no matter how much he wished it he could not resurrect what was lost._

Until now...

They were alive. He saw them at the harbor, seated on their horses, two young women...one dark, one light...on one steed, and a young man who looked like a younger version of himself with _her_ seated in front...his wife, his children. From afar she looked as though she grew into her beauty, she looked so strong, but sill...Elia. 

He saw her speak and her words moved their children to action for they all took off on their horses leaving the harbor. Run Elia, run, for I will find you and I will take back what is mine, my Love. The part of him that hates her has dark thoughts ruling the judgments in his head, thoughts of what he would want to do to her, how he would want to make her feel after what she did. The part of him that loves her knows he will not act in that regard...Rhaegar is NOT his father, but this deception cannot be ignored. It can’t be unfelt...not for her and not for him. 

“My King how do you want us to proceed?” Arthur’s voice betrays his disbelief as he looks for direction. 

“Bring us ashore. Ready the horses. We ride as soon as they are ready.”

“Is it wrong to say that part of me wished this journey was for naught?” Arthur asked as he looked over at Rhaegar, uncertainty in the expression of the typically stoic man.

“No. There is nothing wrong with wanting the worse not to be true.”

“But them living should not be the worst thing, your Grace.”

“No, not their survival. it’s the betrayal, the unnecessary exercise in soul shattering grief that is the worst part of this.” Rhaegar murmurs as he continues to look to where his family once stood.

“Where will we go from here?”

“We ride to the only castle fit enough for a princess and her children. We ride to Lemonwood...”

And that is what they did. Rhaegar could see the walls of the Keep. He saw the knights that guarded it standing at their post...ready to protect their Princess...his Dornish Queen. 

As he stood before them, his own men surrounding him, only dark thoughts permeated through reason. I will burn this place down. I will kill you all if you try to keep them away from me, or I will die in the attempt to get you back. Here might be my last stand, and I welcome it.

Just as Rhaegar was about to speak, he saw the gate doors slowly open. Behind the doors stood a young Dornish woman...one who was not his daughter. She was beautiful, yet there was an underlying of danger about her. 

“King Rhaegar it seems you have made a wrong turn, for you are far from home.”

Looking more closely at the young woman as she rode out of the Keep walls on her white steed, dressed as a lady in a dress the color of lilac, a hue seen often during a sunset. She stopped a safe distance before him. A well-practiced smile etched on her face. While quite beautiful, she made him and Arthur uneasy...she was no typical Dornish beauty...not when she looked out at him with Oberyn Martell’s eyes. 

“You must be Lady Nym.” Arthur speaks from his warhorse.

The young woman tilted her head downward, a small sincere smile spread across her lips, a puff of air escaped her lips in a quiet laugh. 

“Very astute, Ser Arthur.” Her eyes once raised reflected a violence that was seen often in her father gaze...when he was made to look at Rhaegar. Oberyn’s daughter, a Sand Snake stood before him, and she seemed unconcerned about her potential fate. 

“Well your reputation and that of your sisters proceeds you.”

“Hmmmm...as does yours. Sword of the Morning...Dorne’s Shame...The Dishonor of Starfall...funny how reputations work, no? Are you happy with yours, for in all honesty I am very pleased with mine?” Rhaegar could see the clenching of his friend’s jaw, for he could tell it mirrored his own expression. Another victim to Rhaegar’s quest...the loss of Arthur’s honor in the eyes of his people. After the war, Arthur had been requested not to return to Starfall. His brother and sister had written him lamenting the loss of the man they thought they knew. Rhaegar carried guilt for his friend’s downfall, for Arthur was a loyal man to him...he took his oath seriously, even in the face of personal disgrace. 

“Your Grace, I stray from my purpose. You are invited beyond the castle walls and into the Keep. I believe there may be someone...or rather ‘someones’ you are hoping to see.”

Shock hit Rhaegar hard. He had not expected such a quick reception. The disbelief on Arthurs faces spoke to the same thought. 

“We will follow you, Lady Nym.” Rhaegar spoke; trying to suppress his eagerness as it pushed through his anger. 

“My apologizes King Rhaegar. _You_ are invited to come in. Just you. No one else. Your men are allowed to wait outside these walls, but they will not be allowed in.”

“Rhaegar do not do this. This is madness. There is nothing stopping them from killing you once you are away from us. This will start a war.” Arthur’s hand reached out to grasp Rhaegar’s arm. 

“That may be true, friend, but if I stay outside these walls then war will come regardless, for I will come back with the whole of Westeros and I will wage war.” Rhaegar’s gaze brooked no further argument. 

“Rest assure, your Grace. No harm will come to you. It is not our intent to bring war to our shores by killing the King of The Six Kingdoms. You will be free to leave; we will not keep you.”

“Why should he trust you?” Arthur hissed at the young woman. 

“Ser Arthur, I think you are confused. Not all Dornish people are untrustworthy...but then you aren’t Dornish anymore, are you...no, you are Westerosi. So, I guess there is no reason why you should not trust us. We have more cause not to trust you.” Oberyn’s smirk graced her face. 

Rhaegar found that deep inside he did not care what would happen to him, though in reality he should. He did not want war on his behalf...not if he chose to enter the vipers den. He would only bring war if he could not get inside, but standing before him is his entrance to what he most desires. It’s a chance...and he’s willing to risk it if it meant he might be able to see them...truly see them one more time. 

“It is okay Arthur. She might be telling the truth and I would be able to leave when I desire. She might be lying and I will be dead before the sun has set or I may find myself in a cell as a prisoner. All of those fates I am prepared to accept, if it means I might be able to see them again. This is my choice. Should my blood spill I need you to go back to Westeros. I need you to inform my family of my fate. I need you to make sure Jaehaerys does not seek vengeance in my name. This is what I command.”

Arthur looked at him for a long while, the man trying to make sense of Rhaegar’s wishes, before he nodded his head in acceptance. 

Rhaegar nodded towards the young woman. He gently nudged his horse to follow her into the gates. Looking around he could see so many knights. More than he thought Lemonwood would have, but then their beloved Princess of Dorne lived here. Their beloved Queen. 

Dismounting his horse, a young servant came to take the reins before walking away with his steed. Lady Nym continued to walk toward the keep leaving him to follow. Rhaegar tried to take in the path they walked, through outdoor walkways, short stairs, and gardens, until she led him to an arched ornate door. This room was special, Rhaegar thought, not because of the grandeur of the door, but because of the number of guards strategically placed outside of it. 

Lady Nym nodded at the guard who stood in front of the door, the man proceeded to open it, and she walked inside with Rhaegar at her heels.

Nothing could have prepared Rhaegar for the image in front of him. In the middle of the room was a seating area, chairs and loungers, plush cushions, colors of jewels, and in the center of it sat a young woman dressed in a sleeveless yellow dress with orange suns embroidered onto the delicate fabric. Her dark hair the shade of a rich brown it seemed almost black. The colors of her dress brought out the warm tone in her tanned skin. She was an image he had seen before, when he first saw her mother...Elia reborn, he thought. But what halted his steps were the dark purple eyes...that almost looked black. 

Rhaenys. 

“As promised, your Grace.” Rhaegar could hear Lady Nym speaking to him, but he could not bring himself to turn away from his daughter. At least not until he heard a young man speak .

“Thank you, Nym.”

Rhaegar swung his head in the direction of the deep voice that spoke. Standing just as tall as Rhaegar, dressed in a dark yellow and brown robe, was a broad-shouldered young man with long silver-blonde hair which was plaited. His skin a pale color associated with Old Valyria, with guarded eyes in a shade that is familiar to Rhaegar since it is the color of his own. He could see his own graceful features, ones his other sons display in subtle ways, but that blatantly appear in this one.

Aegon.

“Yes, thank you Cousin. We can proceed from here. Would you please see to...?”

A gentle voice with a Dornish lit spoke from the other side of the room. Rhaegar slowly turned his head to see a beautiful young woman dressed in an orange dress with a brown band at her waist and an sheer orange scarf that covered her head...small yellow leaves embellished throughout her dress. She had a slightly tanned complexion, his hair, and his mother’s eyes...he could also see Elia in the frame of her body, the shape of her eyes...her guarded smile. What was her name? He did not know her name? Did Elia give her a Dornish name...Lorenza, after her mother...Ashara, after her best friend...Meria, after the Martell who took a stand against the Targaryens of old, as Elia took a stand against him when she left in the way that she had. 

“Of course, Cousin.” Lady Nym’s confident voice turned tender. Out of the corner of his eye he watched as the young woman who escorted him to the chamber walked away.

“Hello Father.”

Rhaegar found that he had not taken a conscious breath since he set eyes on the occupants of the room, but when he heard a familiar voice...not of his wife, but of his daughter who looked and sounded so much like her, Rhaegar could not find it in himself to breath. A rush of air fled his body when he heard her call him “father”. 

Finding strength where he felt there was none left, Rhaegar spoke a name he had not said aloud to another living soul...in twenty years.

“Rhaenys.” His voice sounded hoarse to his own ears. “My fierce little dragon. My girl.” He could not keep his voice from breaking, his body from trembling as he stood before this small woman. A woman...how he had missed watching her grow...a fault he cannot completely lay at Elia’s feet for if things had gone differently, he still would have lost her...losing out on watching her mature, that he knows.

She stands and begins to walk towards him, her hand touching his arm, another resting on his shoulder.

“Yes...I was once your little dragon. It’s been a long time, Papa.” Her eyes and voice so unsure of him. He could see it. He could hear it. She had nothing to be wary of with him, but he knows that his past actions and current ones may not warrant her seeing him as anything but a danger. Rhaegar did not want her to look at him that way. He wanted the little girl who thought he was a good man...a reliable constant. 

Not able to stay away, Rhaegar pulled her close to him, as he wept into her hair. The words “I am so sorry, my little one” and “My dear sweet girl” were on a continuous loop. Unable to remain on his feet, Rhaegar fell to his knees with his daughter in his arms. He felt a large warm hand on his back, and smaller one on his head as fingers threaded in his hair.

*****

A moon had passed, and Rhaegar remained in Lemonwood. He met the Lord of the House and was extended an invitation to stay in the castle, and though many would have called it foolish he accepted the offer anyway. As he told Arthur, he was willing to take the chance of death if it meant he could see them again. They allowed him one guard, and Rhaegar selected Arthur to remain with him. Rhaegar informed his family in Kings Landing of the situation, and told them to keep their distance.

Even though she took their children and hid them from him, Elia taught them of their Targaryen heritage. They knew who he was. They knew who they were to the realm they were born into...Princesses and a Prince...a Crown Prince who could/would be King of the Six Kingdoms. They knew of the prophecies that once defined him. They knew of the war that was waged because he dishonored his duty as a husband, father, and prince. They knew of Lyanna and their sons. They knew that they had a grandmother, an uncle, an aunt...they knew more about how the world moved on after them than Rhaegar expected. 

It seems the Dornish realm was well-informed. He knew it true when they also had an understanding of what life became like for him....after their “deaths.” His children asked questions that made him think that perhaps they knew that he wasn’t the prophecy driven man he once was...questions that spoke more of his regret. Many of their conversations brought back a sense of shame. A vintage selection of emotion that he generally kept as private stock that only he would drink alone when moments of guilt overwhelmed him. Hard conversations that his children commanded with an awareness of sensitivity and quiet force. They were not cruel, but they would not let him hide.

During his stay, Rhaegar had a chance to get to know his children...all three of them. Rhaenys, Aegon...and Visenya. It shocked Rhaegar to know that their third child, their second daughter was name Visenya. After everything he had put Elia through, he didn’t think she’d want their child connect to the taint that once drove him to madness...the insanity that destroyed everything. 

He learned that Rhaenys was more than capable of sparing with a spear. She was fast and agile. Her true love seem to be riding her horse fast and hard as though The Stranger was on her heels. Animals tended to flock to her, horses, dogs, cats, birds...she was gentle towards them. He could see himself though. In the way her lips twisted when she would tease her siblings, the way she used her hands when she spoke...an unconscious action he never noticed in himself until one day his son Daeron mentioned it. She also seemed the most intuitive, very much like her mother. Rhaenys carried herself as the Elia Martell he once knew, except there was an undercurrent of steel under all the softness...that is much different from her mother. 

Aegon, he was a jovial young man, something Rhaegar himself never was. However, under all the smiles and jest is a young man with a very shrewd mind. He enjoy deflecting his intelligence. When Rhaegar asked him why he did so, he thought his son’s response to be very sound. 

“People tend to show more of their truer natures when they think they are in the midst of someone with a defect of mind, wouldn’t you agree Father? It’s easier to estimate what one will do, if they are predictable, and if people think he are smarter than you then you’ll always know where they stand.” He laughed at Rhaegar as he drew his sword for another round of sparring. 

Aegon’s demeanor was a glaring contrast to his current heir. Both young men are smart, but where Aegon seems comfortable with hiding what he thinks...Jaehaerys is too direct for such skill. As much as Rhaegar loves Jaehaerys...and by gods he loves his son...he know that if it weren’t his duty as the remaining first-born son that Jaehaerys would just walk away from it all. His fourth child is a tactician, a general, a warrior who has been asked to be a king. Yet standing before him is a young man who has a politician’s mind, and a comfortability with making decisions outside of warfare and trusting them to be sound enough for others to follow. Rhaegar can see it as he observes his son’s interaction with the people at the castle and within the town. 

As for the daughter he never knew he had, he found a young woman who was as skilled with a blade as she was with the strings of a harp. Rhaegar learned the hard way...she asked him to spar and he thought it grossly unfair to spar with a sword when she would use two daggers. The cuts to his forearms and shoulders disabused him of the notion quite quickly. It took all of Arthur’s willpower not to intercede on Rhaegar’s behalf as the man is programmed to honor his oath to protect his king. But Rhaegar forbade Arthur’s intrusion and discovered that the swift and nimble woman was a fierce fighter. There was something about the light in her eyes during the match that reminded him of Daeron...for the young man is lover of the combat as well. As the maester tended to his various minor wounds, his Visenya...would play lovely melodies on her harp. A love she said came by chance, as a child, when she found a harpist playing in the Water Gardens.

Rhaegar still finds it hard to believe that Elia would have named her after the child he started a war for...a child he thought another woman was supposed to give him. He still doesn’t understand how she came to be...not the mechanics, for he understands that laying with his wife could beget a child...it was the fact that Elia knew what having another child could do to her. If he wasn’t willing to take the chance of losing her for the sake of the prophecy, then why would she risk herself. Why did she not take moon tea? Why didn’t she stop the pregnancy...she knew she could die?

These are questions Rhaegar has for Elia. Many he has added to the ones he had already came to Dorne with. As he remain here, he has learned about his children and found more grace with them than he ever deserved. While they were taught that he was a dangerously flawed man, Elia did not teach them to hate him. She taught them carefulness and caution; traits that they should have for his past acts make him deserving of their reservations...their lack of trust. But they do not hate him...miraculously they don’t. They are just guarded. 

*****

As he entered his second moon in the South, Rhaegar had traveled to Sunspear with his children and his men. He met and argued with Doran, and fought violently with Oberyn. He and the Martell brothers quarreled about Dorne’s part in the deception of keeping his wife and children away from him. All the while compounding the theft of a kingdom that once was a part of his birthright. 

The only thing damn thing Oberyn had to say, as spat out blood before his feet, was to remember that “Dorne was Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken. We always will be. There has never been a Targaryen to conquers us, so bring your Fire and Blood, we will never bend to you.” 

It was Doran’s words that burned the most, “You do not get to be angry for losing what you could not keep. Just as Dorne once decided to ally themselves with the realm, we also decided to leave it. You do not command us Rhaegar...no Targaryen never has. Whatever actions we took to support the Seven Kingdoms were choices we made. If we wanted, we would remove our support. Which is why your father kept Elia and _her children_ hostage. He thought he could make us do what he wanted. You and your ancestors were fools to think you ever could control us. In the end, it didn’t work. Dorne did what _it_ wanted, and that was to protect the blood of Dorne held captive in the Capital. Something....for all your words about birthright, failed to do.”

He was reassured that he could leave at any time, but that Dorne would never return to the realm, and if Rhaegar wanted war, then let it be war. As for his children, they had free will and therefore the Martells would not interfere with their decisions. The three young adults offered to return to Westeros. They were willing to return to the fold, with the understanding that there would be no war. All that asked was the freedom to visit Dorne without qualifications. 

The remnants of his past all converged. His noblemen may have cared little for Elia, but they stood in support of his first two heirs. He could save his people from a war he knew they would not want. While like his noblemen, the common folk never cared for Dorne or the Dornish, but the people had loved his wife and their children. They never warmed to Lyanna the way they had loved Elia...even his sons by her are well-liked, but not beloved...not like Rhaenys and Aegon were, and they had been just babes. 

Arthur kept reminding him that he could walk away with his children without starting a war, but Rhaegar refused to entertain the terms...not until they met one term of his own...not until they brought him to Elia.

As he heads into a third moon, not once had he seen his Dornish Queen. No one would speak to him about her...not her damn brother, not their children. Rhaegar wanted to see Elia. Rhaegar needed to see Elia...and nothing would move him on this point. 

Rhaegar Targaryen would not depart from Dorne until he spoke directly with Elia Martell Targaryen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT BELOW:
> 
> Note sure if you're interested, but here is a board I have of my headcanon of these characters.
> 
> https://pin.it/mjda77u6cn443o
> 
> I know I enjoy seeing how writers envision their characters...maybe you do too.
> 
> ~Winter


	2. The Power of the Sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing!

As Elia Martell Targaryen made her way back to Lemonwood, she thought of the fate that awaited her once Rhaegar caught up to her. The cold rage on his face told her all she needed to know. He was a man determined, and his anger was a single target on her...not their children...just her.

Once they dismounted from their horses, she called out to the guards to seal the gates, and to prepare themselves for the arrival of King Rhaegar Targaryen. As the men began to move, Elia turned towards her loves. Reaching out for her daughters hands with one palm open, and cupping her son’s face with the other, she drew them closer to her. 

“We never knew if the day would ever come, but we planned for it regardless.” She whispered to her children. With her eyes on them, she once remembered a time when their father’s attitude lent itself to a disregard to their care...when all he cared for were his prophecies...and Lady Lyanna Stark. Though as the years have passed, her eyes in the Red Keep have told her plenty about Rhaegar and how the weight of the war had changed him.

While he loved his Lady...no, Queen Lyanna and their children, Rhaegar carried grief and guilt surrounding the death of Rhaenys and Aegon. The news from Kings Landing led her to believe that if he could go back, she thought he would have protected their children better. Though it conflicts with her desire to keep her children away from their station as the Prince and Princesses of The Six Kingdoms, they aren’t actually children anymore. They are intelligent...in graces, politics, and combat. She, Jaime, and her family prepared them for the inevitable...Rhaegar’s return. 

Standing tall, her son places a warm palm over the hand which cups his face. “Yes, we have. You have done your part Mother. Now it’s time for you to leave...to go far away from here.”

Elia remained strong, even though her heart was breaking. She shook her head in acceptance of their wish. “You know where to find me, my fire-dragons.” 

Turning to her youngest, she holds Visenya tightly. “You might have been unexpected, my little one, but you have been the greatest of treasures. Never forget that.”

She pulls Aegon into her arms, the young man lifting her up, giving little care for propriety. She kisses his cheek, and feels her mouth tremble as she presses her lips against him, trying to take this last image with her. It hurts her to accept that she may not see her son again. “You are Aegon Targaryen. You know what that means. Let no one else try to define that for you. Stay the course of who you are Aegon...remain true, and you will never be lost.”

Once she was carefully placed onto her feet, she turned to her eldest. Her fierce little dragon. Her firstborn. Drawing Rhaenys into a firm embrace, she presses her cheek against her daughter’s, just as she did when she was a babe. The child that saw too much, but remembers very little...except when she does under the cover of darkness. “Rhaenys you are the best version of what I always wished I could be. I had hoped for intelligence, health, compassion, charm, and strength all in the body of a beauty that I never thought I was. You are the best parts of me.”

Standing before the three of them she captures the image of them in her mind. Praying to the Gods that she will see then again. “If the Gods are good, we will be reunited. Always remember and never forget, you are half Dornish...you are of Dorne, no matter where you were born. More importantly you are part Martell. Never forget our words.”

“We are Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken." Her children echoed the words of her House.

“Remember those words, for you will need to be exactly that if you are going to survive the damage that comes with having Rhaegar Targaryen in your life.”

Turning away, Elia followed her personal guard through the tunnels under the castle to where a boat awaits them. They will escape up the Greenblood, disguised as Orphans. [1] [2] Her destination...Godsgrace, for if Rhaegar finds her she will require all the grace the Gods could grant her.

*****

A moon had passed since she arrived to Godsgrace. House Allyrion had always been faithful vassals of the Martells. When she first returned to Dorne after the attempted sacking of the Red Keep, she was brought to Godsgrace with her children...and with Jaime.

Oh Jaime...how I miss you, my Wayward Lion. Elia thinks of the first few years upon their return. They hid at Godgrace, and they healed at Godgrace...and the restored each other. Elia remembers how despondent she felt towards life. The only effort she made to too live could only be seen when she was in the presence of her children. Everyone thought to remove them to allow her rest, but only Jaime had saw that the attempt to give her peace by keeping the children away was actually enabling her demise. 

He was there to listen to her cry, to hear her pain of losing Rhaegar, for being left and humiliated for a younger version...a healthy woman. She wept, vented, and raged...and he took it all without adding his own feelings to hers. That was not a task her brothers were able to do...especially Oberyn. She found herself again in the attentions of her children, and in the arms of Jaime Lannister. 

Some might call her a woman of ill-repute after forsaking her vows, for though her husband had forsaken his first even though she had kept to hers...until she stopped, and took Jaime for a lover. It wasn’t immediate. In fact, it hadn’t started until years had passed. She could not tell you when she began to fall in love with Jaime, but she knew when she became aware that she had loved him. 

Jaime had taken her to an open space, only sand and hard dry desert ground to be seen for miles. He told her to dismount, walking their horses to a lonely desert tree to tie them securely. Turning to her he reaches for her hand as they walk a bit of a distance away from the horses. Elia was absolutely confused by these events, but she trusted him, so she complied. 

“Elia you have told me that all your life you were treated differently...the sickly Princess who was made to learn the arts and social graces of royalty, but kept away from learning how to defend yourself. You always said you felt you lost a part of your Dornish identity when you weren’t allowed to learn the art of war...as other noble Martell women have learned before.”

“Yes. I have said that, but I am not sure how that addresses what we are doing here Jaime.” Elia looked up into the emerald eyes of Jaime Lannister and for the thousandths time wondered how the Gods found the perfect green to contrast against his golden mane. A true wayward lion...and how thankful she has been that he was...wayward. 

“You are in good health Elia. You have been for years. Nary an illness. You are strong, and happy. I can see it in you...you have never been this free, and it shows my Queen. I want to help you reclaim that part of yourself you feel you have lost. I want to teach you how to fight.”

“What!” Elia couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled forth. 

Jaime just laughed, his eyes crinkling as he seem to find joy in her mirth. 

“At nine Rhaenys shows promise with her staff, and even though Vissy is six, she is very agile with her wooden knives. Your daughters are learning about this part of themselves...of their identity. It’s not too late for you to learn it too.”

As Elia looked up at him, she saw a man that found he lost little when he broke an oath that had forsaken him. He found honor in doing what was right, rather than standing by and doing nothing when dishonor surrounded him...both in duty and in family. He took a risk to save her and her children and asked for nothing in return. He stayed by their side, and wanted nothing, but to do what he felt destine to do...keep her and the children safe. Jaime never took, though she and the children made an effort to reciprocate all the affection and care he freely offered. Now he wants to try and give her a piece of her identity that she once always thought was lost to her...without her asking and without his wanting...and it was in that moment that Elia realized that while she still loved a man who did not deserve it, she also found love with another man who did. 

They had ten years together, and not a day goes by that she doesn’t think about him. She could see him in the way Rhaenys’s patiently cares for wounded animals and how she finds pleasure in conversation, or in Aegon’s joviality and gallantry, and in Visenya’s romantic idealism. They are Rhaegar’s children...and there is much of him in them, but there is also Jaime and for that she thanks the Gods that a part of him still lives within them. Parts she hopes to see live in her grandchildren. 

Elia takes in a shuttering breath when she realizes her face is wet. Thinking of her lost love always brings them to the surface. As she wipes away her tears, she hears heavy footfalls in the distance, making their way towards her. 

“My Queen are you alright?” A young knight stops before her. 

Elia looks up into the face of Ser Daemon Sand, the Bastard of Godsgrace, who has a well-earned reputation with swords. 

“I am well Daemon. Just dusting off old memories. Do you know what the problem is with dusting off old memories, Ser?”

The knight tilts his head, a smile on his face. “No, my Queen.”

“Hmmmm...well young man you run the risk of dust getting in your eye. Makes the tears come. Enough about me.” Elia stands and walks over to where several fighting staff rested against the wall. She eyes them until she finally decides on a rosewood staff with hidden twin blades. 

Reaching for the weapon, she looks back at Ser Daemon. “Are you ready to hurt today?”

The man laughs. “Hurt. Yes. Lose...you might have to earn that, your Grace.”

Elia raises her head back and laughs at the young man. She thinks sending him to squire under Oberyn might have been the Allyrion’s biggest mistake, after all the world does not need another young man with her brother’s cheeky attitude. 

As she begins to walk away, she wonders how long she will have to be forced to stay in a place that hold the memories of where she found love, when the love is now gone.

*****

As a second moon had passed, Elia journeyed to Starfall and found comfort in the presence of her best friend, Ashara Dayne. They spent much of their time in the gardens and reminiscing about the better part of their past.

“So, another raven arrived from Sunspear. It seems your children have arrived with the King.” Ashara tells her over a glass of Dornish red. 

“Yes, it seems so. Yesterday I received a raven from Rhaenys. It looks as though the children have made a tentative truce regarding the past. Leery, but open, it appears.” Elia tries to clear her head with a gentle shake. 

“They are smart Elia. You know this.” Ashara attempts to quell her concern.

“I know and trust my children, our people. It is the others I worry about. What if I was wrong about Rhaegar? Even if I am right about Rhaegar, what about his wife? What if Lyanna harms my children...especially Aegon...because he supplants her own son?”

“Those are valid concerns Sister. What is there to do? You have left it in their hands as to how they will proceed with their father and all that entails. If they go back, that is a calculated risk they have made, is it not?” Ashara reaches over to grasp Elia’s hand. “Remember they still have Rhaella. She loved Rhaenys and Aegon. I do not see her allowing harm to come to them. Not again...not after what happened.”

“Rhaenys has written that Rhaegar as accepted that they will not speak of me, but he has told my brothers that he will not leave Dorne until he has seen me.” Elia takes a deep sigh, confused by Rhaegar’s persistence as though war will not come regardless. 

“I wonder how long we can prolong this path before war comes to our land. Does he want to punish me, my person, himself...like Aerys did to Rhaella? What purpose do I serve him? The children have chosen to leave with him. Why would he want the realm to know of my existence? He has his Northern love...he has Lyanna. What else could he possible want with me?”

“Maybe all he wants is to see you. Speak to you.” Ashara huffed out a breath. “You know I am all things against Rhaegar Targaryen, but I understand life altering loss...and so do you. Are there not things you have been wanting to say to him?”

“Yes, of course they are.” Elia whispered.

“Then why would you think he has nothing to say to you.” Ashara reprimanded. “While I agree he treated your marriage with disrespect, the one thing that can be said about Rhaegar is that he was never intentionally hurtful...any pains from him were always a secondary consequence of his actions.”

“Is that enough Ashara? Meeting him. Unboxing all that we have buried. I do not know if it is.” Elia squeezes Ashara’s hand in affection, as she turns her head towards the roses finding a temporary distraction in the fact that the gray flower seems to be turning violet. “I wonder how she does it.” 

“How who does what?” Ashara voiced echoed in confusion. Elia understood her friends bewilderment for one moment they are speaking about her children and the potential danger they find themselves in and the next moment she is talking about flowers that alter their color.

“Your daughter. How does she turn those gray roses into violet ones?” Elia replies. 

Nodding with quiet laughter, Ashara looks past Elia and her gaze softens. Immediately Elia knows her namesake stands behind her. 

Turning to her right, she sees a breathtaking beauty, they call her the Bastard of Starfall, but Elia has always called her “Little Lia”. Though not little. Tall and dark haired like her parents, she has the delicate features of her mother, but the gray eyes of her father...a Northern man who does not know of her existence, the honorable Lord Eddard Stark. 

Rumors had abounded regarding the parentage of Little Lia, many assumed it had been the charming Brandon Stark, but Elia knew the truth. Her dearest friend fell in love with a quiet young man who fell in love with her, someone who saw her for more than just her beauty, and together they made the most exquisite creature. Elia Sand.

“Lia, perfect timing my sweet. I was just asking your mother how was it that you could change the colors of those roses” Elia pointed to the flowers that caught her attention. 

Granting both women a kiss on their cheeks, Lia sat next to her mother as Ashara began to pour a cup of wine for her daughter. After a quick sip, Lia began to answer Elia in earnest. 

After hearing about the process, Elia asked, “Why change them though? Are they not perfectly content as they are?”

Lia smiled, a lovely girl who prefers the company of flowers to people...Elia thinks she must be like her father in that regard, for if she remembers correctly Eddard Stark preferred the company of very few and liked being absent from attention...a striking contrast from his sister.

“Perhaps they are, but I find that no matter what elements they come into contact with...no matter what colors they convert to it is all superficial and temporary...just as long as change is possible. In the end, they are still what they were always meant to be...a rose and that had never changed.” Lia took another sip from her cup, her gentle eyes searching Elia’s, perhaps beseeching Elia to understand.

As Elia ponders Lia’s words, she sees the wisdom in it for you can transfer the idea from flowers to people.

“So, Elia, do you think it enough? Ashara asked, returning Elia’s previous question back to her.  
Feeling determined, Elia looked into the eyes of her oldest friend. “ Maybe not, but perhaps it is a start.” 

Ashara nodded in understanding.

“So, when do you leave?” Ashara asked, her fingers stroking a curl in her daughter’s hair. Elia smiled at the gesture. It made her miss the physical proximity of her own daughters. 

“In a sennight. I guess I should send a raven for them to expect my arrival.” Elia takes another sip as she thinks about what she must do to prepare for her departure. 

“Perhaps you should.” A smile in Ashara’s voice caught Elia’s attention and she raised her gaze to see her friend’s expression. “He has no idea how you have changed and who are now. I truly wish I were lucky enough to be a spectator to such an affair.”

Elia smiles back and gestures in agreement, as she finishes her glass of wine.

*****

It took Elia a moon turn to prepare her departure and to travel to where she told Rhaegar he could find her. She thought that if the man truly wanted to see her, he would push aside his discomfort to come...to face the tribute he left as a testament to the defilement of their commitment to each other.

If he wanted to see her, he needed to come with their children to the monument of his betrayal...a stain he left on her homeland. Rhaegar had to come to the Tower of Joy. 

She did not think he would come. Elia thought Rhaegar too proud...especially if he might believe that coming here would dishonor the memory and choice he made on behalf of his precious Lyanna. Elia’s raven to him informed Rhaegar that she would only give him a sennight after her arrival to make his presence known. Each morning she rode with her guard from Kingsgrave to the Tower, and every evening she returned. She did this for two days. 

On the third morning she saw a small entourage surrounding the Tower. She saw him. He was facing the structure, their children stood away from him, but it seems like two of his Kingsguard were standing behind him...their gazes on the building as well. 

The sound of their horses drew the attention of those at the Tower. Elia could see her children’s stoic expressions, and for a moment she thought her decision to request their presence was cruel...not to Rhaegar for she cared little for his feelings, but it was hurtful to her children. She had thought they needed to see this place, etching it in their memory making it clear before they left what this man once did...what he was capable of.

Elia dismounted her horse, walked past Rhaegar, willing her legs to continue moving ahead. She began to run up the curved stairs of the keep, she could hear Rhaegar calling her name, but she did not stop and eventually she could hear him running after her. Elia kept moving until she came to the door she had been looking for. She knew this keep...she had come with Jaime some years ago...she had to see it for herself. 

Pushing the door open, Elia proceeded through, the sound of Rhaegar not far behind. It wasn’t until she heard the door close behind him that she turned around. Her knees almost buckled, she was going to collapse in front of him, she thought. There he was. Rhaegar Targaryen in the flesh. The man’s large body was quaking, his indigo eyes gazing at her, his eyes cataloging each part of her. His face rippled with looks of disbelief, longing, and...desire.

All Elia felt as she looked at him was hot rage. In five long steps, Elia walked up to Rhaegar and slapped him across his face. A hit so hard she cut his lip with one of the rings on her hand. She wasn’t finished, for she raised her other hand and slapped him again, whipping his head in the other direction. Wanting to make him hurt, Elia was planning to punch him as she had been taught, but Rhaegar escaped his stupor of surprise and blocked her attempts, moving away from her. 

“You are the one who lied and made me think you and our children were dead, and it is you that has done me a violence!” Rhaegar yelled at her. Good, she preferred anger over despondency. 

“Look at where you stand Rhaegar.” Elia opens her arms and she looks around the room, a room where his precious Lyanna lived until she birthed their babe. The man had the good sense to lower his eyes, a small tilt of his head, a hard swallow at his throat...she watched it all. She would not let him ignore it. 

“Remember it was you who lied first, who left us to die, who lashed out first with your public disrespect and dishonor towards me...your wife...your children. There are many ways to be violent, Rhaegar. The awareness of indifference and disregard from someone you desperately loved, when one did not see it, is a violence unto itself, you selfish bastard.”

We walked towards her, a hand extended...Elia was not sure if he meant the gesture as one of affection or protection. In her fury, she honestly did not care. “Elia I never wanted to hurt you or the children. I was so focused on the prophecies that I lost sight of who I was. I was wrong to do so. I will stand here and tell you all the ways I was wrong. I will own my part in the destruction of our past. I will accept what I can’t or wouldn’t change. I recognize I bare great responsibility for how you feel towards me, and though my actions may disabuse you of my feelings...I still love you Elia.”

Not believing her ears, Elia shakes her head, _love_ , she scoffs. “Still...you still love me. Oh, that is amazing. Yes it is. Though I am confused on the _still_ part considering you never showed me or told me that you loved me before today. There is no still, and if there is no still, then there was never love at the start.” Elia had to turn away from him, she couldn’t continue to watch him shake his head as though her words were wrong...as though her memories were wrong. 

Elia took a deep breath; she felt the air tremble past her lips upon exhalation. “I loved you once. I told you I loved you. I showed it. We may have started as a duty, but I found happiness with you Rhaegar and for a time I thought you found it with me, but you hadn’t. Instead you found...Lyanna. Mistresses and paramours are not rare. I never wanted that for my life...but you couldn’t keep your indiscretion discreet. No...you had to leave me, start a war, and made her your Queen. No, Rhaegar...you never loved me.”

The large man sat on chair, hunched over as his rested his forearms on his knees, eyes on his hands. Expecting to see the brooding behavior Rhaegar was known for, she hardened herself towards him as she waited for him to rationalize all that occurred as just on his part and wrong on hers. 

“You are right when you said we start as duty. I was blinded to the gestures of affection you bestowed on me. It wasn’t until I thought you dead, as life continued to push forward, that I realized how I had grown to miss such expressions. I had shades of it from others, but it never felt quite right, then I understood in time that it wasn’t the gestures I missed...it was you. It took me more time than I should have taken to realized that I did love you, but it took even less time to acknowledge that I hadn’t done much to demonstrate it. I spent our separation thinking you died and you never even knew...you died thinking I never loved you. You have no idea how I have spent the last twenty years Elia.”

Rhaegar gaze sought hers. “I should never had crowed Lyanna at Harrenhal. I never should have written to her. When I crowned her, I only meant it as a kind gesture after seeing her bravery as she fought to protect her friend from danger. I had not loved her...not then. When I first wrote her, it was just to send her a personal note of congratulations on her betrothal, but then she spoke of her unhappiness and the death duty makes of joy.”

Elia closed her eyes. Why was he telling her this? “Rhaegar, everyone knows of your great love story, there is no need for you to repeat it...least of all to me.”

“I want you to know how it started and what it is...you deserve as much truth as I can give, not the fanatical interpretations that have made their way to your ears. I know I do not deserve your consideration, but I do not want you to continue your life as though you matter little to me. Please just let me say it.” Rhaegar’s eyes did not plead, but there was a hidden agony behind his indigo orbs. 

Elia could not bring a voice to her acquiesces, she simply nodded once. 

“We corresponded about how duty weighed on both our minds...her betrothal and Robert...my prophecies. I grew to care for her...I began to fall in love with the young woman in the letters, but it had never been my intention to act on those feelings. _We_ were good, Elia. Rhaenys was growing so fast and we had another child on the way. I had no thoughts of straying...not in body though it shamed me that I had let some of my emotions tie themselves to another.” Rhaegar stood up and began pacing the room. Elia’s eyes tracked him, taking inventory of each expression. 

“Then you birthed Aegon, and the maester thought another pregnancy would kill you. In my stupidity, I thought that destiny had put Lyanna in my sights because the prophecy would be meant to proceed no matter what...here fate had put a fierce fighter in my path...a woman who grew to love me as I had her. It was then that I had written her to tell her of my plight, and because I knew she had strong feelings for me I had hoped she would offer herself, and she had. I waited until you had gotten better. I could not leave until I knew you were recovering. I also found it hard to leave, knowing that I was intending to betray you...and it didn’t matter my reasons why...so I stayed as long as I could to prolong the final act.”

“I never saw it coming Rhaegar. You were always there, so tentative and caring, and that night before you left...you loved me so passionately and fiercely...then you were gone without a word.” Elia turned her head, the tears pushing past her defenses. Her mind remembering how well he loved her...the strong gentle touches, the sighs into each other mouths as their bodies found a rhythm that led to an ultimate release, the tender touches and murmurs of affection that followed afterwards.

“I selfishly took that one-night Elia because I thought it would be the last one I would have where you would not hate me...where you still looked at me without fear that I would hurt you. When I left I was focused on bringing that third head into existence. I knew the High Septon would be difficult in granting me dispensation to marry Lyanna and I would not dishonor her in that way...”

“Oh, you could not dishonor _Lyanna_...of course not.” Elia mocked. 

Rhaegar winced, but continued. “I married her on the Isle of Faces in front of a weirwood tree in the faith of the Old Gods. Then I brought her to the Tower. Initially it was not my plan. I had intended to return to Dragonstone, but on our way there we learned that my father had taken you to Kings Landing. I needed a place to keep Lyanna safe and I figured as the wife the realm knew and acknowledged that you would be safe in the Capital. I chose the Tower because I knew my father would not send an army to Dorne...that was a battle he would not undertake. Shortly after we arrived, Lyanna was with child, and we learned of her Father and brother...and the banners to rise against my father had been raised.”

“And your children and I became your father’s prisoners.” Elia added her thought.

Rhaegar looked at her, nodding his head, “Yes, the children and you became my father’s prisoners. Not common knowledge, but a truth I learned after I thought you died. After the war had been won, I thought it would be best if I arrived with Lyanna. I knew you were aware of my whereabouts and the reasons for it. The break of us was a visible fracture that I had hoped could be fixed with a resetting of sorts. I thought that us coming together would be the re-break we needed before the healing could begin...before I could make any attempts at amends towards you.”

Crouching before her, he cautiously attempted to take her hands into his. His eyes spoke of deep grief and remorse, expression Elia never thought to associate with Rhaegar in this regard. “It didn’t take me long to grasp what a fool I was to believe so.”

Elia wouldn’t let herself moved by him...she couldn’t. Moving into his space, his eyes solely focused on hers, she whispered... “Did this epiphany conveniently occur when you saw your treasured Lyanna birth you a son and not the daughter you were expecting or could it have been when your second and third child were born son as well?”

Pain flooded his eyes, but he did not look away. “No. The awareness came when I walked into the nursery and saw the destruction left behind, the finality of it all consumed me when I saw the saturation of blood on the bed we once slept in. I was so focused on something that clearly meant very little in the end. I tried to make myself fit a mold that was never meant for me...or our children. All I did Elia was bring devastation to my life, to my people...to my kingdom. I lost sight of the man you once believed me to be.”

It was Elia who moved away, standing to look out the window her eyes caught by the horses who stood in the distance. “You used me Rhaegar. You took my body and you used it to bring you your children to fulfill a prophecy. You took the love my people had for me and you used it when they allowed you safe passage with your...lover...into my homeland. You used my love when you thought I would forgive you for the slight of having your woman birth your child on the soil of my countrymen.”

Elia can feel Rhaegar behind her, standing closer than seems proper...considering they are no longer together. His head lowered. His lips at her ear. A grave voice filtered through. “And I am eternally sorry for it. I was wrong. I wish I could take it back, but I cannot...no matter how much I pray for it. I do not want you to think I consider my actions were right for they were not. I have taken to telling myself that your choice to lie to keep yourself and my children hidden from me was your punishment for me...one it pains me to admit I may have deserved.”

Biting her lip, she ponders his words. Words she really hadn’t thought Rhaegar would ever speak...least not to her. She stills questions the sincerity. “By your own admission you did your best to lessen the dishonor of your beloved Lyanna...you married her, you gave her a legitimate child, you didn’t have her birth her child in the North among her people, no, you brought her to my home. It wasn’t enough that she had my husband, she had a piece of my life and was to be treated with respect when both you and she gave so little of it to others more deserving of it. I had suffered enough humiliation and heartache so that you and your Lyanna could come into existence. I could not remain with you Rhaegar. I saw my future, if I had stayed, and it was a cruel and hopeless one...both for me and my children.”

“And that is why you let me think you had died...” He barely choked out before a loss of air. She could feel the shuttering of his breath against her neck. 

“Yes.” Elia whispered and she closed her eyes.

Rhaegar turned her around until she faced him, his large hands on her shoulders, his eyes on her face. “ I will not lie to you. Not again. I will tell you the truth even if it brings you discomfort...or pain. I fell in love with Lyanna and I still love her.” Elia felt like a punch to her midsection...a violent loss of breath...Gods why did that hurt to hear. Struggling to pull out of his grip, he pulls he closer to him, their noses almost touching. 

“I learned to love the deeply flawed woman she is and not the perfect woman I created from those letters. It is a good marriage, but it is not perfect. We live in shadows. I live in the shadow of what once was and miss, Lyanna lives in the shadow of you, my sons live in the shadow of siblings they never met. This should not surprise you my Dornish Queen...for you are the sun...and the sun can cast a long shadow.” Elia was stunned by his declaration; she paused her resistance as her body froze in shock. “I have missed you every day you have been gone. I have missed our children. I do not miss the man who was the cause of their demise. I have been irrevocably altered without you in my life. My sons...I love them. I got to watch them come into this world and saw them grow into the young men they are, but they could never replace Rhaenys and Aegon. The loss of them changed fatherhood for me and impacted how I fathered the children left to me.”

“I do not know what you want me to say. You left me Rhaegar. You left us. We almost died...truly died. I can never trust you again. I don’t even want to try.” Elia closed her eyes. She pushed Rhaegar away, and walked to the other side of the room...seeking distance. 

“I want you to come back. I want you to come home. The children have agreed to come. I will not seek out war Elia should you choose to stay. The realm will learn of your survival, for I will not deny our children their birthright nor will I asked them to lie on your behalf...and something tells me you wouldn’t ask them to. You might not love me...or trust me...like you once did, but there are people you left behind that did not deserve the product of your deception. My mother was crazed with grief and Viserys grew into a man who carries a burden that was never his to shoulder.”

Elia pushed her heels of her hands into her eyes to stop the flood of tears that were determine to burst through. She had few regrets about her treachery...but the toll on Rhaella and Viserys humbled her. They were the few bright lights that remained of her life with the royal family. 

“And what of Lyanna and your children.” Elia’s voice wet with tears.

“Do not concern yourself with Lyanna’s feelings. Consider any discomfort she feels as a natural consequence of her past actions. I find there is no nobility in decreasing others distress when they aren’t deserving of it.”

“She is your wife. Did you not just say you love her?” Elia’s voice is laced in suspicion. 

“You are also my wife...and I have told you I still love you.” Rhaegar’s eyes are clear, not cruel or calculated, just...resolved. 

“Rhaegar...” Her voice trailed.

“I am not saying cruelty is needed, but I can’t shield her from this, nor do I want to if comes at the further expense of you and our children. Those times have long passed, Elia.” 

“My arrival will shame her. What is stopping her for retaliating against me and my children?” Elia shared the concern he refused to see. 

“It might...” Rhaegar tilted his head. “It will, but again she is receiving what she once brought onto another. I played my role. I will have my own humiliation...the King whose wife left him...the King who wanted her to come back. As I said...no one is ever absolved of what they put forth in the universe. All we can do is weather the storm...and in time it all will pass. Lyanna may be many things, but she is not a risk to you or the children...not in the way you think. You have no cause to believe me, but should you come home, you will see that she doesn’t live her life untouched by the consequences of our past choices. Hard realities had set in and we are beyond the days of such willful blindness.”

Elia heard his words and took in his countenance. He spoke these sentiments with a quiet conviction...a tone very different from the one he once used to speak to her about prophecies and destiny. Who was this Rhaegar? While she could admit to herself that she was still unmoved to offer him forgiveness or absolution, she also recognized he wasn’t asking for it either. He was just unveiling his part in the destruction of them, he offered his apology for his actions and how they impacted their marriage, and yet he did not seek her mercy. 

“Return to Kings Landing or not...you are giving me an illusion of a choice? Am I expected to believe that it was always your plan to offer me an option to return? Do you truly think I don’t know of your intentions to bring war to Dorne if I deny this request?” Elia marched up to Rhaegar. Searching his face for a denial...for a tell alerting her to his lies.

“I have threatened war. I will not deny that, but they were words spoken in anger. Words spoken only to those who are the closest to me. I have not declared such intention towards your brothers or our children. All I have maintained is that I would not leave Dorne until I had seen you. I do not want war Elia, but is that what you require of me in order for you to consider returning...if only for a short while. I fought a war for Lyanna, now you want equity in the form of war for you.”

“No. I do not want war. I do not want my children, my family, my people to die for a worthless cause.”

“You are not worthless, Elia, but I agree...the loss of so many on behalf of our personal conflict does not warrant the approval of such measures. It hadn’t been acceptable back then either, and many innocents paid the price for it. I cannot undo it. All I can do is not compound it. So yes, as much as I want to rage at the world and make Dorne my target, I know I am not blameless...all I can do without causing more harm is to ask.”

They stood before each other. Their eyes staring into one another’s, not in desire but in caution...her gaze cautioned distrust while his cautioned hope. In the end, she doesn’t think neither found resolution. Elia licked at her parched lips; she noticed his eyes were drawn to the action...his eyes heated as his nostrils flared...but he did not enter her space. 

“I cannot give you my answer. I need time to think. You have seen me. I have heard your words. Now you must go. If I truly have a choice, then do not take the children. Let them remain with me in Dorne while I consider your request. It will also give you the opportunity to prepare your family and your realm for their return. They are the most important things to me. Your world must be ready for them. In three moons turn, they will return to you...perhaps with me or without. Prove yourself Rhaegar and agree to my terms. Show me this changed man you say you have become.” 

His breath trembles as a small deprecating smile tugged at his lips. “Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken."

It was odd to hear him speak her house words, but they were no less the truth. 

The silence between them was deafening. Neither one of them moved. Her gaze on him as he seemed to consider her words. 

“In three moons turn...”

“Yes. I will inform you of my personal decision in two.” She raised her chin, standing her ground. 

Rhaegar looked...tired, drained...and she wasn’t sure how to process that. He proceeded to walk towards the door. He stopped beside her, his breath brushing against her ear. “I will honor that request, Elia. I will leave you and the children, and I will wait for your word.” He took a deep trembling breath before he walked away from her.

Elia remained in the room where her sense of young love died...where it grew for a young woman who shouldn’t have been...with a man who wasn’t hers. Time has caught up with them all and it seems like young loved died for them all. What remains in the ruin of that kind of passion? 

A knocking at the door drew her attention from her own thoughts. Elia looked up to see her daughter. She pushed a smile, shamed that she couldn’t muster sincerity. Rhaenys, always her intuitive one, attempted to sooth her feelings. 

“It’s alright Mother. We’ve spent more than enough time in the past. I think it is time we leave this dreadful place.” 

“Yes. I think you’re right Love.” Elia held her daughter close. “Has your father left?”

“No. He and his guard will escort us home. Then he will depart from there. He said something about being responsible for you fleeing Lemonwood, and would prefer to know he left Dorne with his wife and children safely ensconced in their home.” Rhaenys brow quirked, her face waiting for Elia’s response. 

“Should that mean something to me? We are safe in Dorne, Rhaenys.” Elia attempted to ignore her oldest child’s expression. 

The young woman walks ahead of her mother, leaving with a departing thought. “That may be so, but he does not _know_ that. I believe a long time ago he thought we were safe on Dragonstone, and he was wrong. He just wants to be sure before he leaves us. It can’t be an easy thing for him to walk away.”

“Are you saying I should pardon your father?” Elia thoughts harden even if she kept her voice soft.

“No, but he said something to me that you might find insightful. He said that after everything he had done, after the gravity of it all, he insisted on staying to see you because he knew there was a part of you that still loved him...if not in the way you once did.”

Elia ridiculed the idea in her head. “That man...he is highly vexing.”

“I thought it odd too, but when I brought such a wild thought to his attention, he said he knew because of us. We did not hate him. Cautioned, yes. Guarded, affirmative. Alert, absolutely. But there is no hate and he had no part in keeping that seed from growing. Not when the odds weren’t in his favor. The lack of it is because of you.”

Elia found it hard not to get emotional...to keep her lower lip from trembling or her eyes or watering. 

“It’s okay to love him and not fully trust him. You might never be what you once were, but together in this new world you can chart your own course and define who this Rhaegar and Elia are.”

In all the time she had imagined this reunion of sorts she never conceived a meeting like this. The wounds Rhaegar inflicted have scarred Elia to her core. She is no longer the woman she once was, but then it seems like no one was able to maintain the delusions they once held...not even Rhaegar. 

Elia contemplates her daughters words, for there is truth to them. She and Rhaegar will never be what they use to be, but perhaps they can find an accord with the past as they move forward with all the obstacles and challenges ahead...finding their way on their own terms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Book reference: The Greenblood is the main river in Dorne. 
> 
> [2] Book reference: Orphans of the Greenblood are descendants from the original Rhoynar. They chose to keep their original culture, which was brought over from Essos when they migrated to Dorne. They are the Dornish version of Gypsies. They use the river/waterways as a way to trade their wares.
> 
> EDIT BELOW:
> 
> Note sure if you're interested, but here is a board I have of my headcanon of these characters.
> 
> https://pin.it/mjda77u6cn443o
> 
> I know I enjoy seeing how writers envision their characters...maybe you do too.
> 
> ~Winter


	3. The Effects of a Waning Moon on a Wolf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

When she was a young girl, Lyanna found that the men in her life loved her, but they had very little understanding of who she was as a person. Her father saw her as an extension of this bond with her mother...another Stark...and when she died he had very little knowledge of how to raise a girl. He taught her in the traditions of the North and as she grew she adopted a strong sense of Northern pride: honor, skill in battle, and resiliency...people made tougher than the citizens who were born of the South. Her blood rang true with the power of being Northern, and she thought herself a true Northern woman.

Her brothers nurtured this perception. They were the ones who taught her how to ride and to fight. They embraced her willfulness, in fact, they encouraged it. As years passed and she turned less girl and more woman, they seem to have forgotten the person they helped to create. 

She’ll never forget the look on her father’s face when she railed at him for arranging her a marriage to Robert Baratheon. A man she knew partook of women and therefore, in her young mind, would never be able to hold his vows to her. He was a man of the South...a soft man...and that was something she could not tolerate. Her brothers, particularly Ned, couldn’t understand why she was so angered by the thought that their father had chosen a husband for her...had chosen that man. 

All her life, Lyanna either did as she chose, or offered her opinion. Her resistance should not have surprised them, when the introduction of Robert Baratheon and the marriage alliance, was made without her consideration. The fact that they were met with opposition should not have been unexpected. 

When she went to the tourney at Harrenhal, it had been her family’s hope that Lyanna could find positives to what her life could be in the South. All she found was a chance to fight with some reckless young men, and a gift of winter roses from The Prince of all the realm. 

When she first met Rhaegar, Lyanna thought him handsome. Not in the way of taking him away from his wife. He was the Crown Prince, married, and with children. Even in the age of young womanhood she knew such actions would be frowned upon. She was a High Lord’s daughter betrothed to his cousin. Love nor lust defined how she felt...it was simple, harmless...she was charmed, with no feelings to act upon. 

After she returned to Winterfell to await her upcoming nuptials, she received a simple letter congratulating her on her future marriage. It was a simple note, that warranted a simple thanks, but Lyanna revealed too much discontent with the path chosen for her, and in all fairness it would have been rude for Rhaegar not to reply. That is how their relationship began. Letters...many, many, many, letters. 

On her table, littered before her, are all the missives she ever received from Rhaegar during that time. After he decided to leave for Dorne, to follow this phantom trail of his lost family, Lyanna took out all the notes. She read them in the order she received them. Over the years she has done this exercise. All in an attempt to make sense of the choices she made. Every time she reads them she discovers something she had missed before. 

In these letters they spoke of the pressures one endures when they are high born...when their birth comes with responsibilities that they may not be willing to agree to. The difficulty with conforming. She sympathized with him and he with her. He spoke of his prophecies, and the fear he felt for his children should he be correct in his estimations. He spoke of the fear he had for humankind should he and his children fail. At first his ideas concerned Lyanna...the fantasy of it all, but there was something about his tone, his urgency, that led Lyanna to believe him. 

Seldom did he ever speak of Elia. Frankly he only addressed her three times. The first time was to share his own feelings about a dutiful marriage. He said Elia had begun as his duty, but that fondness and understanding could come forth from obligation, if both parties were willing. 

The second time, he told her that Elia had birthed their second child...a son. It looked as though the prophecy was remaining true, but the _“maester had told him that Elia ought not undergo another birth.”_ Lyanna smiles sardonically. Seems like her husband was right...he hadn’t told her Elia could not have another child, he only said that she should not. Funny the things you miss when you surround yourself with what you only wish to see. 

The third time Elia’s name was mentioned it was upon his acceptance of Lyanna’s offer to be the mother to his third dragon. He said that he knew Elia would be hurt by the introduction of a new wife into their home, a woman who he grew to love through their correspondence, but that Elia was remarkable enough to agree with it. He had no doubts or reservations about her acceptance...in time. That the sacrifice they were making...their elopement and the minor discomfort brought to Elia (and Robert) would be worth it...in the end. 

When she thinks of what these letters made her feel, she found that she fell in love with a man in isolation from his duty. Lyanna didn’t know what it meant to love a man who lived with such responsibility. The man she learn of spoke of himself in the absence of his obligation. When she watched him walk away from her at the Tower...in an effort to lead a war that his father had started when he killed her family, Lyanna had her first taste of the man who put responsibility before the feelings of others. How could he leave? Then she had wondered if this is how Elia felt when the woman discovered why her husband had left their home.

At the end of the war, when, Rhaegar came for her and their child, she saw his face...his disappointment and once again the dutiful father would rise even though the man felt confused about the birth of a male child. Once they moved to Kings Landing, after the discovery of Elia’s supposed death and the sentencings of the various leaders of the Rebellion, Rhaegar remained committed to his task of being King and all the obligations that role contained. He suppressed...no that is not the right word...he just didn’t prioritize them the way he once had during the few moons they spent together without the responsibilities of being a Prince...and Princess. 

Reality set in once Lyanna saw the ruins of what remained. Rhaella could barely look at her and any words spoken in private were occasionally unkind...but always direct. The court that remained was weary of her. Lyanna never wanted to be in a position where she was the focus of unwanted attention, and in the Red Keep that was all she was...unwanted and full of attention. The women in the court would look at her with veiled judgements, and slyly spoken words said just within enough distance for her to hear... 

“ _Seldom do you hear of Northern whores making their way South, such an exotic temptation, even for the Great Rhaegar Targaryen.”_

_“They say she has wolf-blood. Do you think she roams about the castle like a bitch in heat?”_

_“The gall she has to stand in Princess Elia’s place while the woman lies dead with her babes.”_

_“She walks around here continuing the charities started by Princess Elia as though she has the right to, as she’s not the cause for why there is need for more aid. No shame.”_

_“She may not have lit the fire, but she’s no better than a kinslayer. She sent them to their doom. Not just one member, but two...her Lord Father and his heir.”_

_“Have you heard...no Northern House will send representatives to her court. Seems as if the North wants nothing to do with her. Finally, something the whole of Westeros can agree upon.”_

_“I heard she didn’t want to marry who her father had chosen. Seems she thinks herself better than us...those who married as is our duty.”_

_“If this is Northern honor in our midst, then we best ensure that our husbands refuse the hand of any daughter of a Northern house...we can’t guarantee the children of that union would be kin.”_

_“Keep your husbands close when near her, for clearly she has no issue bedding men who have wedded vows towards another.”_

She remembered all the times she ran to Rhaegar about how she felt being there...how the people looked at her...how they treated her. The daily expectations placed on her to meet with these women, to complete tasks that she had little training in, to serve in a capacity she decided she didn’t want. It wasn’t supposed to be this way, or so she thought. Rhaegar tried to be gentle in his brutality when he told her that she had to find a way to make peace with the life she had chosen. 

Rhaegar thought she understood the full undertaking she agreed to that went beyond having their child. He reminded her of the letters...of his revelation of court-life and the vapid insipidness that lurked in every corner...the mummers farce he had to wade through and the mummer’s farce he had to present. _“Select your part Lyanna and choose a good role. Hold it close to you, wrap yourself in it, and if you choose your part well they will never know how much they injure you. This is the lot _you chose_ , Lyanna. It’s time to accept it instead of weeping over it. Let us not forget, there are worse things in our world to lament. You do not get to wail unjust outrage for decisions that you made for yourself, not when innocent people have paid a substantial price for you.”_

The sound of the waves hitting the seawall pulls Lyanna back to the present. She looks down at the letters on her lap. 

In his first letter upon arriving in Dorne, Rhaegar says she lives, as do their children. He has met his son and _two_ daughters, but not Elia. She still remains beyond his grasp. He will not leave Dorne without seeing her...speaking to her. 

In the second letter, he reveals that Elia has agreed to meet with him...at the Tower. Lyanna could not believe Elia would want to go there. If events had been in the reverse, Lyanna would have torn the building down until nothing remained. Perhaps she had been banking on Rhaegar not going. If there is one thing Rhaegar has consistently shown is that he can be quite persistence...even in the face of discomfort. 

His third missive informed her of his return in a fortnight...it outlines his plan to invite the High Septon to the castle, his intent to inform all his Lords of their resurrection, and his hope that Elia and his children will return to the realm shortly thereafter. 

Rhaegar has been gone for four moons, and as her eyes read his latest correspondences for the umpteenth time, she puts the mummer’s part she learned to play on the shelf...if only for a little while...and the girl in her comes forth and weeps for the next wave of destruction that is her life...the one she chose.

*****

Many years ago, Lyanna realized she was not meant for greater things...not in the way she had thought of Rhaegar and the prophecies. In the aftermath of the deaths of her father, brother, Elia, and Rhaegar’s children Lyanna saw herself live through three pregnancies and in the end she was not the one to bring forth the three-heads of the dragon. In her heart of hearts Lyanna hoped that if she had, then Rhaegar’s pragmatism would resurface, and while he would still grieve his first children he would see the prophecy coming to pass with the children she gave him.

That wasn’t meant to be. Then she thought in the hindsight of so much loss, loss that they set in motion, that they could do their duty as was expected of their station. Since her husband, her King, was without an heir...the Gods blessed them with three sons. They gave Rhaegar an heir and strong sons to keep his family line alive. She tried to find the benefit in her situation, if only to keep the deep dreaded guilt from clawing at her throat. Most days she was successful, but then they were other days that reality filtered through...she really made such a mess of things. 

All those years she thought she was fated for more, that she was not meant for the life of a Lady...she found herself as the wife of a king...Queen Lyanna Targaryen. A life filled with obligation, responsibilities, and expectations. The foolish girl of her youth could not see that she was trading one life of duty for another, in fact if she was honest, she traded up for a worse situation than marrying Robert could ever had been. Lyanna escaped nothing...she just enmeshed herself more into the kind of life she thought she didn’t want. So, she should not have been surprised by the news.

Elia Martell Targaryen and her children were to return to The Six Kingdom. 

As she sits in her husband’s solar with her sons and good mother, Rhaegar informed them of the conversations he had with the High Septon. Since they had been married in the Faith of the Seven right before his, their, coronation, Rhaegar needed the man to sanction both marriages. If the High Septon chose not to, then her children might be considered bastards in the eyes of the realm. The South did not keep to the Old Gods and the North had distanced themselves from her a long time ago. After extensive conversation with the High Septon, they had both agreed that there was no precedent for a spouse returning from death after the other spouse has remarried. In light of the King being a Targaryen, and the tentative peace that has been found across the continent, the man begrudgingly agreed to approve both marriages as true and binding. 

Rhaegar had informed his Hand, Jon Connington, to begin preparation for Elia’s coronation at the Great Sept of Baelor. A ceremony that was to occur shortly after her arrival, for he would not disrespect her by withholding an honor that was hers by marriage. 

Lyanna’s heart clenched in her chest, but she maintained her composure, her hard-earned poise. She could feel Rhaella and Lord Connington’s eyes on her. She wouldn’t let them see her hurt. 

“Will they come to Kings Landing, Father? Are we to greet them on the steps?” Aemon asked. Lyanna could see him sitting forward with his forearm resting on his legs. A serious expression settled on his face. 

“No. They will be waiting for us on Dragonstone.” Rhaegar stood up and walked towards the table to pour himself a cup of wine. Lyanna hears him murmur, “That is where they should have been...home.”

“Pardon Father, I missed the last part.” Aemon called out.

Lyanna watched as her husband cleared his throat while buying time to compose himself. 

“We will spend the summer in Dragonstone. You will get a chance to meet Elia and your siblings and for them to meet you...all from under the guise of the Red Keep...away from the eyes of court. 

The silence in the room was telling. Her husband eager, her sons nervous, her good mother joyful...for Lyanna...dread. 

“As for the next topic I want to address...” Lyanna watches as Rhaegar looks towards Jaehaerys, her son solemn face breaks out into a sad smile as he gestures for his father to continue. Rhaegar shares a similar smile with her son before taking a deep breath. In that moment, before Rhaegar even said a word, Lyanna knew. 

Lyanna stopped listening to the words being spoken around her as soon as she heard her husband say, “Jaehaerys will step down as Crown Prince, and Aegon will reclaim his rightful place as the firstborn male heir.” 

There was nothing else for her do. Lyanna knows that Rhaegar loves her or rather he grew to love the woman she truly was...flaws and all. A love that grew in the shadows of their losses. She found it hard to accept that she wouldn’t be the one to help him fulfill the prophecies. That was a bitter pill to swallow, but she did swallow because that was her truth. Then she took solace in giving him an heir...a Crown Prince of his own, but even that was in vain for Rhaegar has no need of her son. No not in that way. 

So, if she could not do her duty to help destiny or spouse, then what purpose did she ever truly serve. All those poor choices raced through her head. The pain of it all interspersed with joy she found in her children and tempered love in her husband. As she sat there with her head held high, back straight, hands folded over her lap she did not cry or rage. She closed all access to her expressions and let only one through...acceptance.

*****

The air pulling at her hair, the summer winds coming off the sea adds to the cold Lyanna feels at the core of her. She look out into the water, and wonders if she had the gumption to steal on a ship to Essos and escape this moment in time...and the difficult moments hereafter. She laughs to herself for she knows she won’t. Lyanna knows as frighten as she is of the change to come, she’s brave enough to withstand the challenge.

She couldn’t believe her eyes as her family walked the steps to the castle. Her own family spent very little time on the island. She thought it in poor taste to allow her children to roam freely on the grounds that their father’s first family had lived. Lyanna was aware that Rhaegar would come and visit, as does the Queen Mother Rhaella and her daughter. 

As they walked closer to the top steps, Lyanna found it hard to breath. It wasn’t the length of the steps that made her pause, no it was the knowledge that she was about to confront her past. Since Elia was already here waiting for them, Lyanna felt just as she had when she went to Kings Landing so many years ago. A woman who had eloped with a man and bore his child, who was part of the cause of her public humiliation and shame, finally being made to confront the wife. The first wife. The true wife. 

This moment compounded by the knowledge that the enormity of her actions would be understood by the children of both unions. Her sons offered up tokens of support...Jaehaerys kissed her hand, Aemon embraced her shoulders...pulling away with a gentle squeeze, Daeron kept near...a soft touch to her back and arms.

Lyanna had envisioned what was in store for her from Elia and her children. She only wondered if she had overestimated their reactions or under. In short order she was about to discover that answer, for as she took another step she saw the shadows of people clustered above.

She took a deep breath to steady herself, feeling the warm hand of her husband at the small of her back, he gesture told her she was not alone in this but they could not avoid it. Lyanna found what internal strength she had and looked up as she came to her last step. 

It was as if the Gods had planned the moment to finally appease Elia. Lyanna raised her head and look directly into the eyes of Elia Martell Targaryen. 

When she tries to remember what Elia looked like, Lyanna remembered a small young woman, with a slight frame, dressed in beautiful gown with a veil that always covered her long hair...dark eyes and a quiet smile. She was unremarkable to Lyanna’s childish memory. This woman who stood before her was beautiful. Shorter than Lyanna, yet slender. She stood with a strength and grace only found in the body of a woman who fought for it. Pools of dark eyes that matched the color of her hair. There is very little of the woman that stands before her than reminds Lyanna of the image she had created. 

Elia looked at her and didn’t attempt to hid the distain she held for Lyanna. It wasn’t in her posture or in the words that she said...it was in her eyes that Lyanna could see the truth behind the mummer’s farce. Each woman playing her part. 

“Queen Elia Targaryen, may I present my second wife, Queen Lyanna Targaryen.” Rhaegar’s voice was determined, but she could hear the small ounce of embarrassment in his tone.

The silence was deafening. Elia just altered her gaze between her and Rhaegar. Lyanna refused to crack under the strain of the situation though everything within her wanted to run away and hide. She could feel her sons unease and knew there was little she could do to alleviate it. All she could do was stand tall and proud with the confidence she truly did not feel. 

“Queen Lyanna, we welcome your family to Dragonstone.” Elia greeted, a measured tone that said less than the volumes spoken in her gaze.

Forcing herself to respond, Lyanna reinforces her courtesies. “Queen Elia. It is good to see you well. We are happy to see you have returned home.”

Elia’s expression was unmoved. While Lyanna did not think her words would have elicited any warmth, they were expected. 

As Rhaegar introduced their children to Elia, she could see her eyes change into a more neutral gaze, paired with a genuinely soft smile. Her sons appeared guarded, but polite. They understood how important this meeting was for their father. They knew their history. Their sons would not shame them no matter the cause...there was nothing to defend...that much was made clear by both parents. 

While Elia was introduced to her sons, Lyanna’s eyes went to the three young people standing behind Elia. A young lady that looked so much like her, but with eyes that spoke of her Valyrian heritage. Then the young man beside her looked just like her Rhaegar...the one regret Lyanna had about her sons appearances was that none of them ever looked like a true Targaryen...a constant reminder that her Northern blood was stronger than their House’s. As her eyes drifted away she saw the girl...woman really...the daughter she thought she was meant to have but didn’t. She was a beauty. Lyanna could see both her parents in her...her stature and facial features were Elia but her coloring was all Rhaegar’s contribution.

They looked confident and commanding...as they watched their parents with her sons. But as if the Gods were still in the mood to bring her to her knees, they each turned their gaze towards her, and in those eyes she saw judgement. Lyanna held on to her expression. She would not crumble under this. She would not. 

Once the introduction with Elia had passed, Rhaegar called forth his other children. They stood before her, the sentence in their eyes never changing. 

“Queen Lyanna may I present my children. Aegon, Rhaenys, and...Visenya.” Lyanna’s knees almost buckled at the pause she heard before he uttered her name. Standing before her were the children who she thought died all for the daughter she could not give him. Lyanna could feel the burn of tears that threaten to push through. She wouldn’t cry though...she wouldn’t. 

“The pleasure is all mine.” Lyanna spoke the truth for all of them, for there was no doubt that Elia’s children could have forgone ever seeing her, but she was pleased to see that they had lived. 

“Your Grace.” Said in unison, paired with curtseys and a bow. 

Then silence. 

Rhaegar broke the tension by suggesting they enter the Keep. 

First Elia’s family.

Then hers. 

In that one moment Lyanna just saw the rest of their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I left the conclusion a bit open-ended, but I feel with this pairing each reader can see different endings for them. I enjoy how reading how others might continue the story...ideas abound during these times.  
> I think I might continue in the verse by writing the stories from the offspring POV.
> 
> EDIT BELOW:
> 
> Note sure if you're interested, but here is a board I have of my headcanon of these characters.
> 
> https://pin.it/mjda77u6cn443o
> 
> I know I enjoy seeing how writers envision their characters...maybe you do too.
> 
> ~Winter


End file.
